


Proof By Contradiction

by Paraphilia



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Drama, Ficlet, M/M, POV First Person, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-20 23:39:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/893254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paraphilia/pseuds/Paraphilia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You," I said, softly, "are terrifying."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proof By Contradiction

"You," I said, softly, "are terrifying."  
  
A dark smile lifted his mouth. "Does it seem so, to you?"  
  
"It  _is_  so. You're merciless, Holmes. In your observations, in your damned desire to  _know_  -- everything, Holmes. Everything. Even me."  
  
"Especially you."  
  
"I must be unfortunate," I muttered, "to have drawn your regard. It's humiliating. This agonizing transparency..."  
  
"Exquisite transparency, I'd say." He looked up at me; his eyes glittered. "It is exquisite to me."  
  
"Must I be so constantly seen through -- constantly -- "  
  
He silenced me.  
  
Not with his gaze, that is more smothering, in its disdain, than the night over Newgate -- not with his hands, so finely made and reticent. He silenced me with his  _mouth_ , hot and sudden and sweet, stunning me and stilling me and rendering me helpless. I simply stood, my hands dangling uselessly, as Holmes's palms swept up my throat like birds on the upswing, settling finally on my face. He held me still. Plundered me. And then, when he was done, drew back with a sigh that utterly extinguished my pride.  
  
"It is you," Holmes murmured, "who are terrifying."

I leaned back against his desk. I was sure, for a few moments, that my legs would give way. "How so?"

He didn't look at me; instead, he reached for the magnifying glass that lay next to his chemistry set. He picked it up -- weighed it -- turned it within his grasp. "Like glass," he mused, his voice returning to its usual timbre, cool and entirely analytical. "Transparent. And yet, when used as a focal point, capable of setting me alight..."

I scoffed. "I'm no woman, Holmes. Do you think to woo me? With your -- "

This time, his gaze did silence me; yes, that disdain, that familiar, beloved disdain, and who was it that was transparent? I was the one being set alight.

"Perhaps we terrify each other," he conceded, catching my expression.

"Perhaps." I'd even forgotten, by now, what had started our little tiff in the first place -- what new, unbearably accurate diagnosis of my character Holmes had inflicted upon me. What new incisions he'd planted upon my soul.

Did he enjoy it? Drawing blood?

It didn't matter. I watched his sharp hands, his sharp face, his sharp eyes. He was a weapon, my Holmes. It might've been ridiculous to hope that he  _wouldn't_  cut me -- particularly when I, in my devoted idiocy, had made myself his sheath.

"Is Mrs. Hudson gone?" So hushed, his voice. The whisper of a blade as it slid home.

"For the time being." I didn't move. Didn't approach him. I saw Holmes turn, his silhouette achingly clear, the line of his jaw and the curve of his shoulder. My heart had quietened itself -- and yet my pulse beat, like a stubborn gong, deafening me.

"Oh, John." His smile may have been condescending, or tender. "Forgive me."

"I won't," I lied, and he raised an eyebrow. Damn him. Seeing through me... "I  _can't_ ," I repeated, for this was truer.

A tremble ran through him -- was it a tremble? Or a trick of the light?

"John," he said again, and like a fool, I stepped forward.

He set aside his magnifying glass, and reached for me.

 

**Fin.**   



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